


Tidying Up

by milkyy



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M, Maid, Noiz being a spoiled butt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 18:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1789051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkyy/pseuds/milkyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba decides to clean up a little for Noiz’s birthday. (maid Aoba)</p><p>Happy belated birthday Noiz!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tidying Up

It’s pretty much Aoba’s expectation that Noiz will give him yet another vague answer about what he wants for his birthday. After a couple weeks of lack luster responses to even the best of Aoba’s questions, there’s pretty much no hope in cracking him. But this morning in particular, Aoba is surprised he finally says something along the lines of a request.

It’s a Thursday morning and the apartment is in a state of complete disarray. Okay, so in all honesty it isn’t  _awful_ , but between the stack of pizza boxes on the counter and mess of dishes in the sink, Aoba is feeling huffy knowing that he had to put his breakfast off to clean up some of his boyfriend’s mess. Groggy, grumpy, and still wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, Aoba begrudgingly stares at the soapy mess in the sink. He doesn’t even turn around ten minutes later, when Noiz, fully dressed and freshly shaven, makes his way into the kitchen. After a moment of silence, Noiz comes forward to the sink where Aoba is elbow deep in suds. He slinks his arms around Aoba’s bare waist, murmuring,  “Morning, Aoba,” with a soft smile that tickled at his ear. 

Aoba wriggled his shoulder, effectively nudging Noiz away. “Morning.” 

“You’re up earlier than usual,” he points out, arms still looped around Aoba from behind. His fingers drum along the firm line of Aoba’s hips, oh so dangerously close to the elastic band of his boxers. Not that Aoba pays it any mind. Noiz has twenty minutes to get to the office and Aoba has no patience for any of his spontaneous prepositions. Boss’ kid or not, Noiz has to be at the morning meeting just like everyone else.

Aoba tightens his grip on the sponge, watching a trail of bubbles gush down the glossy face of a dish.

“Had to get up,” he shortly replies after a moment, setting one dish on the drying rack and starting on another. “The kitchen was a mess. Let alone the rest of the apartment.” After Aoba’s swift move in a few months ago, Noiz was discovering that living with a roommate meant more than sharing a refrigerator and while there was certainly a learning curve, Noiz seemed to be taking each little lesson to heart. His arms stiffen around Aoba’s waist for a second, before he nuzzles the tip of his nose in layers of Aoba’s hair at the nape of his neck.

“You know we have a dishwasher for a reason,” he says after a moment and while it’s meant in good humor, Aoba frowns. 

“If you ever  _used_  it, you would know that we haven’t gotten it set up yet.”

Noiz’s grip tightens. Dishes clang in the sink before Noiz pulls away. “You don’t have to clean those,” he says, brows lowering. 

“Yes, I do,” Aoba says, not leaving any explanation—does he really even have one, besides the fact that Granny always demanded they keep a clean sink? Before Noiz can say something else, he quickly adds, “You need to get to work. You’ll be late.” 

“Aoba, I can call a cleaning service. It’s alright.”

“There’s no reason for you to call a cleaning service,” Aoba snips back. “This is a minor mess that will take fifteen minutes or so to clean up. It’s no big deal.” Aoba glances at him from the corner of his eyes, expecting Noiz’s huffy pout to be in full effect, but instead, the young man steps forward again to stand by his side.

“It’s not fair for you to clean up my mess,” he says and while it’s slight, there’s a line of remorse weighting heavy on his vocal cords as he shoves his hands into his pants pockets, eyes trained to Aoba. “I’m sorry. I’ve been up late for the past couple of nights and I haven’t really gotten around to clean up.”

Aoba clicks his tongue; a habit he picked up from his Grandmother whenever she was feeling moody. It’s true; Noiz hasn’t getting in bed until 3 a.m. for the past week. When Aoba asked, he said he was working on some accounts that had gotten misfiled and it would be fine once he got things sorted out. But after three nights of sleeping alone, listening to Noiz furiously typing away in the living room, Aoba was starting to worry. He eventually invited Noiz to at least work in the bed, hoping he could coax him into an hour or two of sleep. Even if he did doze off, Aoba would wake at the most ungodly hours of the morning to that same furious typing as before, just this time right beside his head.

There was no way Noiz had time to be worrying about his dishes that were starting to accumulate in the sink these days. And anyway, two months ago, apologies were far and few between; four months ago, unheard of. Who knew that removing some piercings and purchasing a well-fitting suit weren’t the only transformations Noiz had undergone these past few months.

Feeling a pang of guilt for his own selfishness, Aoba drops his gaze. “No really, it’s fine Noiz,” he says, letting his voice soften a bit. “You’ve been working hard. It’s the least I can do.”

“Aoba,” Noiz starts. “You owe me nothing at all. Now come on. Drop the sponge, dry off your hands, and go back to bed for a little while.” When Aoba doesn’t make an effort to move, Noiz guides him by the shoulder from the sudsy water towards the bunny-print dishtowel draped over the oven handle. Aoba glances over at him—he can’t decide if he’s more surprised or irritated by the gesture, but he obeys, running the towel over his dampened hands. Aoba hesitates to leave the kitchen but Noiz gives him a gentle push towards the hallway, saying, “Go on. Back to bed.”

“Noiz the mess—“ 

“It’s already taken care of. I’m going to call. They’ll be in and out before you’re awake again.” He must have noticed the wariness that lingered over Aoba’s features because he adds, “I want the cleaning service. That would make me happy.” 

Aoba sighs. Well, there really wasn’t much that could be done. He purses his lips, giving Noiz one last skeptical look before finally relenting. “Fine, alright. But let me call them.” Noiz opens his mouth to retort, but he stops him. “You’re going to be late if you bother with this. I promise I’ll call them and have it done.” Noiz’s short brows furrow. “Noiz, I promise I’ll do it! Now hurry, you’re going to be late if you keep mulling over this.” 

The young man releases an amused little huff of air. “Alright. Fine.” He leans down and wordlessly gives Aoba a quick peck on the lips. “Love you.” Even after all these months, it still makes Aoba blush.

“I love you too. H-have a nice day at work,” Aoba says, a little sheepishly as the man goes to go grab his briefcase, jacket and coil off the kitchen table.

“Yeah. You do the same. And don’t forget the cleaning service,” Noiz says, shrugging on his sport coat over the crisp white button down he’s wearing. 

“I wont. I wont.” Aoba huffs. Something about it made the younger smile.

One last kiss and Noiz is out the door. Once he hears the front door lock click, Aoba glances at the array of dirty dishes still crowded into the sink and sighs. He hates to waste money on such a simple task such as cleaning…honestly, having a maid really isn’t his style. He can easily plow through these dishes himself. With a little music and Ren to talk to…

He suddenly yawns. Well, maybe in an hour. Or two. For now, all he wants is to get back to bed.

With another small yawn, Aoba decides on a glass of water and heads back to the bedroom. But something about the yearly calendar Granny had sent him a few months ago in a care package that he had attached to the refrigerator side catches his eye. And something, some slight urge, gives him reason to stop there for moment, looking at the colorful arrangement of dates in familiar Japanese print. Granny had already marked a few of the important dates in there herself—she claims it was because Aoba was always forgetting things—but for the most part, Aoba had added in his own reminders. In fact, today’s date was circled in red marker.

Shit. Today is Noiz’s birthday.

He feels a whole new wave of guilt rush through him—for being so grumpy, for arguing with him, for opening his big mouth when he should have just left the damn dishes alone. He pushes out a sharp sigh, staring at the calendar date hoping that perhaps, maybe he’s wrong.

Granny is right. He was always forgetting things.

Aoba pushes a hand through his bangs, shifting uncomfortably. Well, what could he do to make up for things? For the past month Noiz has been diverting his questions concerning birthday festivities. Granted Aoba had bought him a gift—but what did that matter when he didn’t even properly say happy birthday to the guy! Biting his lip, he wonders how he could improve things. Noiz won’t be home until late today and he probably won’t be too excited about a cake or anything like that.

_“I want the cleaning service. That would make me happy.”_

Right. Well, the least he could do was actually follow up with the cleaning service. 

A cleaning service…

Aoba suddenly bites his lower lip and he smiles.

 

~o~

“I’m home!” Noiz calls out into their shared apartment once he steps into the lofty foyer. It’s a habit he picked up in Japan and even if Aoba isn;t home, he still finds himself routinely announcing his presence. Plus, Usagimodoki seem to enjoy it. 

Yet even after he slips his shoes off and shrugs himself out of his jacket, there are no signs of Usagimodoki. Usually by the moment his coil unlocks the door, the bunny cubes ware headed full speed toward the entry, eager to celebrate his arrival. But tonight, there isn’t even a single chirp.

“Aoba?” He says, a little louder, his voice reverberating through the high ceilings of the apartment. Nothing. He maks his way in, brows knitted together as he sets his brief case and jacket down on the sofa. The apartment looks…well nice. The large panoramic windows are glossy, the pillows on the sofa fluffed. Even the room smelled faintly of powder. He had almost forgot he had Aoba call in a cleaning service to fix things up. While he wouldn’t have minded living among pizza boxes for the next few days, such mess bothered his boyfriend. And if he knows anything about Aoba, he knew he wasn’t the type to just sit passively in a situation. 

“Usagimodoki,” he demands, just in case if those rabbits were pulling a prank again. They started to get a little feistier since the couple had moved out to Germany, and part of Noiz wonders if they were getting restless without the constant distraction of Rhyme. But even being called doesn’t seem to bring them out after a minute of silence. Noiz sighs, confused. Maybe they all went somewhere… 

He hears footsteps. He twists around sharply, tossing an arm over the back of the sofa. 

“Ah! You’re home!” Aoba says from the hallway, sounding hardly surprised and yet, all too high-pitched and Noiz suddenly understands exactly why he was hiding away for so long.

He eyes Aoba’s long lean legs as he makes his way into the living room and around the sofa, fitted into a delightfully tight pair of stockings, which lead to the intricate layers of white satiny ruffles that fill the underskirts of the black dress he’s wearing, all the way up past the apron tied tight around his waist to the flouncing little headband on top. Aoba stops once he’s at front and center, slumping his shoulders, eyes drifting back and forth along the floor. 

Noiz leans back into his seat with a smirk. “Nice outfit. What’s the occasion?”

Aoba visibly prickles and doesn’t say anything—he’s looking rather red around his neck and jaw—but eventually grumbles with eyes narrowed, “I’m—“I’m supposed to be the cleaning service…” 

“The what?” Noiz says, leaning in, brow cocked quizzically as if he hasn’t an idea in the world what Aoba’s talking about.

“The cleaning service,” Aoba repeats, raising his voice to a petulant huff. 

“Oh, the cleaning service,” Noiz says, playing along with a thoughtful nod. He glances around the tidied up living room that’s looking more pristine than the day he moved in and he smiles. “Ah, so I’m guessing you, the ‘cleaning service’ cleaned all of this then?” Aoba nods bashfully and Noiz can’t help but wonder if he did all of it in this little ensemble—the image is actually quite titillating and he lets himself sit on it for a while.

“I uh, finished up the kitchen too,” Aoba points out in an afterthought. He still hasn’t looked up in a while and Noiz can see that same blush rising up his face and towards his ears. 

“Well, you sure are efficient,” Noiz says, crossing one leg over the other. “I may give you a little extra tip for being so eager to work. Would you like that?” He raises an insinuating brow.

Aoba chokes and gives an irritated little scoff. He crosses his arms over his chest and huffs sardonically, “There’s no need, Meister-sama.”

Noiz’s eyes widen and he leans forward. To be called ‘Meister’ brings up a lot of memories, a lot memories of nameless maids and midwives opening the seemingly iron-clad mahogany door of his bedroom, bringing him his dinner plate or demanding that he get in the tub. They were servants who never bothered to tell him to eat his broccoli or kneeled down by the porcelain tub to watch his games with the bubbles, just hired to keep face, keep him alive. But the Japanese honorific tagged at the end makes him smile. ‘Meister’ never really suited him anyway. This nonsensical mix of Japanese and German explains so much about who he is now. About the man he came to be.

“Hmm…you sure you don’t want a reward?” Aoba presses his lips into a pout and he shakes his head. “You know, my boyfriend will be  _very_  happy with your work when he gets home.”

Aoba must have caught the hint. Finally. His expression flicks into a little smirk, deciding to play along with the little game Noiz has been tossing his direction this entire time. “I bet he will be,” he hums in a sweet way that’s unusual for him, taking a step forward, looking Noiz straight in the eyes. Noiz notices the little detachable collar that sits on Aoba’s neck right above the kissable dips of his bare collarbones, complete with a little black bow. “Especially seeing the mess you left for him to clean up.”

His shaved brows rise in piqued interest and he lowers his voice to match Aoba’s tone. “Hmm…Well, I’m glad I hired your services to help me with the careless mess I left for my boyfriend.” Leaning in, he inquires, “Do you think he’ll ever forgive me for it?”

Aoba’s eyes widen and he bites his lip, trying to conceal a shy smile. “You know,” he says after a moment, “I think he may.”

Prior to Aoba, he never knew this whole forgiveness thing could feel well…nice.

But before Aoba can open his mouth to say anything else, Noiz starts again, “While your work so far is quite impressive, I have a few other requests I’d like to ask you to help out with before you go.” Aoba gives him a curious, albeit suspicious look. Noiz snorts. “Doesn’t maid-kun want to please his Meister?”

 Aoba sits there and sputters for a good couple of seconds, that adorable sputtering that makes all his teasing worthwhile, before he manages to snip back, “Oi! That’s –san to you, brat!”

“Tsk, tsk, is that anyway to talk to a customer?” he asks in feigned offense, though there’s a smirk dancing across his lips. Aoba begins to retort but he quickly cuts him off. “You know, a maid like you will lose business if you keep being so feisty. Seems like you need a little more training.” 

Aoba’s eyes narrow. “Seems like you need to leave said training to my boss,” he shortly replies and Noiz chuckles.

“See what I mean? You need a lesson on customer service, don’t you?” 

Aoba raises his brows skeptically, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what do you know about customer service?”

He gestures him over, to show him exactly what kind of customer service he was looking for, and Aoba hesitates for a second before finally giving in. He shuffles over, trying to sit on the sofa beside him, but Noiz quickly points to the floor. “There is just fine. Right there, between my legs.” Aoba gives him a look—Really?—but he complies, getting down onto hands and knees. “You look so cute,” he comments, in a sort of after thought, a comment that makes Aoba’s face go pink and his expression harden.

Noiz just smirks again, staring back with just as much conviction. 

“But even if you are cute, doesn’t mean you still aren’t a shit maid,” he murmurs. This gets a rise out of Aoba. He reaches up and smacks him on the arm, good and hard. Noiz can’t help but laugh, saying, “Ah, ah, first offense. Second one may deserve a spanking.” Not that he thought about spanking Aoba before this…but the idea of having him in his lap with his skirts upturned left Noiz conjuring up a whole new series of fantasies. 

“Do not spank me,” Aoba says, deadpanned.

“Then don’t talk back,” Noiz simply replies. There’s a moment where neither of them say anything, Aoba just glowering up at him from his seat on the floor, before Noiz says, “Now, let’s start with something simple. Come on, get up.” He signals Aoba to stand—earning another delightfully bitter look before he moves to his feet, standing just as he was before. “You need to practice on how you greet your master. Show me a proper greeting.”

Aoba hesitates stubbornly for a moment, but before Noiz has to reprimand him, he takes it upon himself to give him a polite bow. “Hello. What do you need, master.” 

“That wasn’t very energetic. Try again.” He leans further into the couch cushion, arms sprawled lazily over the back of the sofa.

Aoba glares at him but complies, bowing back down even deeper, muttering, “I’m here to serve you, master.” 

“Cute. Show me how you bow from the opposite side.” Noiz makes up some bullshit reason, claiming that he needs to make sure he’s bowing at the right angle, but his Aoba immediately catches on and rolls his eyes. Noiz actually surprised when he twists back around and bends over, bowing again. He provides a grand view of the backs of his creamy thighs, which happen to be adorned with the cutest little garter belts Noiz’s ever seen. Though, the frilled skirts only rise up to the curve of his bottom, leaving Noiz slightly dissatisfied. He demands that Aoba does it again. “Lift your skirt for me, ah, yes just like that. Now give me a good bow.” 

“Seriously,” he grumbles as he stoops down. His butt is plump and ever so slightly pink with a shy flush. The twin black lines of the garter straps on either of his thighs are tight over his ass, pressing firmly into each cheek as they stretch. Noiz licks his lower lip. Aoba glances over his shoulder, face bright red. “N-Noiz, I feel like an idiot.” 

“You don’t look like an idiot.”  

“But this…”

“Hmm, you wore this for a reason, didn’t you? Wasn’t it to please me? And make me feel good?” Aoba’s silent. “Or was it for some other reason?”

“No, it’s for you,” Aoba stammers after some silence. “For your birthday.”

“And you’re making me feel good when you look this cute,” Noiz continues, lowering his voice to just above a murmur. Aoba squirms slightly, still bent over. “Ah, you’re so sexy like that.” Falling back into character, he says, “Stand up and turn back around now.” Neither of them say anything for a moment—Noiz drinking in the embarrassed blush that has worked it’s way across Aoba’s entire face and those pouty lips he can’t wait to kiss; Aoba shifting uncomfortably as he tries to read Noiz’s impenetrable expression. “Very well done,” Noiz says. “Are you ready to show me some better customer service now?”

Aoba presses his lips together and sighs. “Yes.”

“Good. There are some things I need you to clean up, around here. First,” Noiz points to the glass coffee table behind Aoba. “I think you missed a spot. Wipe it clean.”

Aoba sends him an irritable look, but hurries off to the kitchen, returning back with what looks like a feather duster. Noiz smiles at the silly prop. He actually laughs when Aoba bends over the table and ‘dusts’ away the imaginary mark there was on the table with feigned precision. He watches closely as his boyfriend makes his way around the table, continuing his play dusting before he stops right in front of his line of vision. Aoba glances over his shoulder, giving him a smoldering, mischievous little look, before turns back and bends over. Noiz swallows hard, eyes trained on the black and white panties that have been all this time, hidden underneath the layers of frills. Aoba gives his ass a cute little wiggle for good measure. 

“Does that look better, Meister-sama?” he asks a moment later, standing up straight and turning back around, feather duster in hand. Noiz swears he can hear a sardonic pitch in his voice but he decides to just take it as amusement—because this is all really funny and rather ridiculous when he thinks about it.

He leans over, examining the table for less than a second. “Looks much better,” he says and Aoba smiles. “Very nice job.” Deciding that he wants the rest of the apartment to look “much better”, he begins pointing to random objects throughout the room (typically low to the ground), having Aoba bend over and give them a quick little dusting and Noiz a personal peep show.

But when he points down to his own cock, Aoba’s eyes momentarily narrow. “You want me to dust that?” he questions and Noiz nods. He sighs but steps over to the side of the sofa and slips down to his knees. “Hmm…how should I clean this up?” He strokes at the outline of Noiz’s cock through his slacks, looking up at him in mock innocence. His face is bright red.

“I think you should clean it with your mouth.” Its not so much a suggestion as it is a demand, and for the first time tonight, Aoba agrees without complaint. The hand that’s already feeling out his bulge works the zipper and button of his slacks until they’re open. Noiz doesn’t wait to lift his hips, letting Aoba tug his pants and boxers down his legs.

His cock pulses with heat, exposed to the open air, and it only gets hotter when Aoba’s warm fingers wrap around its base, holding it up to stand.

“Ah it’s gotten quite dirty,” Aoba says, pointing out the pearl of precum already accumulating at the slit. Before Noiz can even reply, he leans down, taking the tip of it into the seemingly endless warmth of his mouth. Noiz grunts through his teeth, digging his fingernails into the sofa cushion as Aoba continues to work his way down the shaft, stopping midway to bob his head. He pulls off with a wet pop, letting all that cool air rush back over his enflamed skin. “Am I doing it right, master?” he asks, peering up at him with his head cocked slightly. 

“Yeah…fuck, it’s good.” Noiz’s hand drifts down, stopping at Aoba’s shoulder. Meanwhile, Aoba has drifted back down to his cock, giving it one long kiss before he nips at the tender skin. Noiz bites into his lower lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, trying to keep his breathing even as Aoba suckles at the tip and occasionally laps the slit. 

“Mnnh, Noiz.” He stops for a moment, swallowing.

“Don’t forget to clean the rest of it,” Noiz says, voice tight. “And make sure you wipe it clean underneath the foreskin.”

Aoba obeys Noiz’s request. Noiz is breathless, letting out low moan when Aoba looks up at him, cock slipping between his lips, deeper and deeper. He can feel his bottom lip tickling his balls and Aoba’s tongue cradling the underside of his cock; the small, somewhat inconsequential sensations that he used to never even know existed. For a second he feels thankful. Before last year, he was completely unaware that there was so much complexity to sex, that he could learn so much about someone while they were between his legs, sucking his cock. There’s a specific way that Aoba kisses his tip and licks his shaft, and looks up at him ever so slightly with that flushed face and those shy hazel eyes. Sure, before he’d just say that these minute details give him a better orgasm (and they do), but every time they have sex together, Noiz feels like he’s gathered a new cache of information, things he would have never known before about Aobaabout Aoba. Now, he can understand when people say sex brings couples closer.

Noiz clutches at Aoba’s shoulder, fingers desperately wriggling underneath the collar of Aoba’s dress. He needs to feel skin, now.

“Out.” Noiz grunts, yanking at the dress to expose his bare shoulder. Aoba immediately pulls off his cock, looking up at him with furrowed brows. “I need you out of this.”

“Hey! Don’t rip it!” Aoba tries to shove Noiz’s hands away but he continues mercilessly pulling at the sleeve. “Noiz! Stop it!”

“Take it off,” Noiz grumbles, reaching back behind Aoba, in search of a zipper. 

“I will, good grief one second!” He hollers back, squirming himself just far enough away from Noiz so that he can reach back and start tugging down his own zipper. But Noiz is impatient, and once he hears Aoba grumbling that the cheap thing was stuck, he moves from the couch to the floor beside his boyfriend. Aoba swats his hands away in protest.

“Just let me try,” Noiz murmurs, ignoring Aoba’s struggling long enough to grasp a hold of the small zipper that hidden behind Aoba’s long hair, and begins pulling it. It doesn’t budge. He tries again, but it’s really stuck. So, Noiz moves onto the next best thing, which is going through Aoba’s skirts. 

“Noiz! Ah!” Aoba squeaks, kicking in a lame attempt to divert his hands from the trail their making up the expanse of his thighs. “Quit it you creep!” He tickles the soft skin of his inner thigh, smiling when his fingers brush against something a little rougher, harder. He squeezes the bulge through its lace encasing, earning a delectable moan.

“Mmnh you like that?” he asks, hotly, starting to kneed at Aoba’s erection with deliberate fingers. Aoba shakes his head, and then gasps. “Are you sure? I can feel you getting a little wet here through your panties.” He glances up at his boyfriend’s enticing expression, cheeks cerise, eyes slipping shut, before returning his attention back to Aoba’s hardening erection. “You’re getting them so dirty.”

Aoba whimpers. “Noi—ah! Mnnh.” Noiz isn’t certain if its out of pleasure or surrender, but Aoba spreads his legs. The ruffled underskirt pools over his hips and thighs. It’s everything Noiz was anticipating down there. His dampened black and white panties stick to the outline of his cockhead, thighs quivering in the most erotic of ways.

“You’re leaving yourself in such a mess, Aoba. I may have to clean you all up myself.” With that, he reaches over Aoba’s head, grabbing the handle of the feather duster that was long forgotten on the coffee table. He smirks as he tickles the feathers along the curves of Aoba’s thighs, down to erection.

“N-Noiz, don’t do that,” Aoba stammers. He trembles.

“Why not?” Noiz hooks his fingers underneath the thin ribbon waistband of the panties, pulling them down past Aoba’s hips and leaving them there. He’s momentarily distracted by the kissable head of Aoba’s penis, that’s already swelling up with need, and he cant help himself but move the duster over it too. Aoba quivers and jerks. “You’re so cute Aoba.”

“Stop saying that,” Aoba mumbles, half-heartedly. “And stop doing that. You’re tickling me.”

Noiz grins. “But it makes your legs tremble like that and it’s so cute.”

“Quit it.” Aoba hisses, visibly rousing up the energy to close his legs.

Noiz isn’t having any of that though. He smirks, leaning down to the delightfully pink shell of Aoba’s ear. He gives it a quick nip—Aoba futilely attempts to jerk away—before whispering, “Get on your hands and knees, maid-san.” They exchange a look—eyes locking in a stalemate—before Aoba relents. “Good boy. You’re customer service has gotten  _much_  better.”

It seems Aoba can’t come up with anything clever to reply with because his expression just contorts and his fingers dig into the carpet. Noiz chuckles, flipping the skirts up and over Aoba’s hips and onto his back, giving him a great view of Aoba’s bare ass cheeks and the cute little garter straps that are holding up his stockings. He feels the need to snap each of them, so he does, earning two breathy gasps and a jerk.

He slips a playful finger between Aoba’s cheeks, touching the puckering rim in one smooth stroke that makes Aoba more than gasp. He moans.

“I’m going to have to get some lubricant,” Noiz mumbles to one one in particualr with a small sigh. The bedroom is only a hallway away—he can literally see the door—but it looks like journey from here.

“N-No,” Aoba says through bated breaths, voice thin. “I-I brought some. It’s right ah, underneath the sofa.”

Noiz looks at him with raised brows—Aoba never fails to impress him—and he reaches a hand underneath the sofa. Sure enough, after some searching, he finds the little tube of lubricant rolling around down there. 

“I like it when you come prepared,” Noiz says with a smile, popping open the bottle cap. He’s careful to not get the gel on the carpet, lathering it all over his fingers. He’s sure Aoba just rolled his eyes and he chuckles, giving the back of his neck—hair and all—a little kiss. “You’re so clever.” He feels the skin there heat up against his lips. He continues kissing there, again and again, even as he pushes his lubricated fingers between Aoba’s cheeks and past his hole. It only takes two fingers before Aoba is squirming against him, the telltale sign that he’s ready for more.

“Noiz, ah,” Aoba moans as Noiz pulls back, returning moments later to align his cock to his body. The head prods the hole, impatiently as it’s trying to push itself in as he rubs it along the puckered skin again and again. Noiz groans.

He runs his free up and down Aoba’s side, feeling the bumps of his ribcage rise and fall with each breath. “Love you.” 

“I love you, ah, I love you too. Happy birthday, Noiz.” Aoba glances over his shoulder and gives him a small, sweet smile.

Noiz stops. His brows rise. “Ah, yeah, thank you.”

“And I’m sorry.” 

Noiz’s eyebrows knit together. “Huh? About what?” 

“About being so grumpy this morning,” Aoba says. “And about not saying happy birthday this morning to you.”

“You think I was really concerned about happy birthday wishes this morning?” Noiz dryly quips. Aoba opens his mouth to retort, but Noiz continues, “Seeing you dressed this way for me is enough of a birthday surprise.”

“Noiz! I just—-I just wanted to make it up to you,” Aoba admitted. Noiz smiled.

“Well, consider it a mission accomplished. And don’t worry about being grumpy this morning. You’re always grumpy in the morning.” Aoba scoffs and Noiz laughs, giving Aoba’s back a soothing rub. “I still love you, even when you’re crabby.”

Aoba sighs and just says, “I love you too, Noiz.”

He wants to kiss Aoba. He wants to kiss him all the way from the crown of his hair to every single one of his chubby toes; and goddamn it, he would have had he not been in this position, with his cock literally nudging the edge of paradise and Aoba waiting beneath him for their lovemaking to start. Instead, he gives Aoba’s shoulder blades through the fabric of his dress one last kiss, before he pushes is way inside. He doesn’t stop until he’s at the hilt. 

“Ah, ah Noiz!” Aoba gasps once Noiz is all the way in. 

Noiz inhales a sharp breath at the sudden encasing heat of Aoba’s body and he sits there for a moment, not moving his hips, just letting himself feel. The way Aoba’s muscles contract around him temptingly, massaging his cock from the base to the tip, is incredibly good. He finds himself saying it out loud, grunting, “Shit you’re so tight,” through gritted teeth.

Aoba doesn’t like that. His back stiffens—Noiz watches the irritation zing up his spine—and then he hollers, “Don’t point—ah! Don’t point stuff like that out!”

Noiz snorts. “Why not,” he questions, trying to level out his voice even though he’s certain Aoba can hear how worked up he’s gotten him. He experimentally rocks his hips against his ass, smiling as his boyfriend moans. Noiz does it again, pulling out midway before pushing back in. “It’s—ah, it’s true. You like knowing the truth, don’t you?” 

Aoba stubbornly shakes his head. “Not that truth. Keep that truth to yourself.”

“Hmm, it because it embarrasses you?” The tips of Aoba’s ears go red and he sputters a string of denial. 

Noiz thrusts a little harder, once, twice—the skirts flip down over their point of entry again, and Noiz unceremoniously tosses them back up again. He starts up a pattern, starting slow, rolling his hips into Aoba’s in long, even strokes. He can feel the piercings grate against his lover’s insides, pushing the metal against his own cock in delicious shocks of pain. His cock jolts each time he pulls out, Aoba’s rim dearly squeezing the tip. He lets himself linger there for a moment, pushing just his cockhead in and out of his hole in shallow thrusts. It gets Aoba moaning, fingers curling into the loops of the carpet, his back arching provocatively.

Noiz smirks, suddenly plunging back in.

“Mnnh, ah, Noiz,” Aoba whimpers. Noiz continues to pump his hips against him again and again. 

 “Ah, you close?” Noiz asks in a murmur, that fizzing, tingling feeling starting to jolt through his lower body. He picks up his speed, fingers knotting themselves in the frills of the dress, tugging at the fabric almost unmercifully. 

“Mnhmm,” Aoba nods with a lusty hum. He spreads his legs a little further, giving Noiz even more access to his hole. It’s an enticing sight, watching himself slip inside again and again.  

“Fuck, Aoba, I love you,” he grunts, hips snapping against Aoba with newfound force, going deeper than ever before. Noiz’s breathing picks up to a pant. He can feel Aoba’s walls tighten around him, embracing his cock in endless heat and Aoba releases a breathy moan, pleasure hot on his voice. It only takes a few more thrusts before Aoba suddenly and sharply inhales. 

“Noiz, Noiz, ah, I love you, mnnh!”

His body convulses deliciously, his voice getting higher than ever. And with that, Aoba orgasms.

Noiz is quick to follow, his movements short and sudden, pounding himself deeper into Aoba’s walls. There’s something about the temperature, the squeeze, the way his voice raises in timbre and pitch, it leaves Noiz breathless and searing sensation comes tingling down his groin. He clutches Aoba’s hips and with a grunt, release comes shooting from his cockhead and through his insides. 

“Oh, Aoba,” he gasps after a moment of silence, letting his hips come to a stop. Aoba teeters.

Noiz manages to steady him in his own haze, hands still grasping his hips before pulling out. He gets Aoba to lay down on his back, so he doesn’t soil himself any further with his spend.

They lay there for a moment, wordlessly staring up the vaulted ceiling at nothing in particular, just their index fingers looped together. 

“Noiz,” Aoba says, after a while.

“Mnnh?” 

“How am I gonna get out of this dress?” he asks.

It seems like a pretty simple question; Noiz answers accordingly, with a sly smirk. “That is unless you want me to take it off of you myself,” he offers coyly. Aoba smacks his arm.

“No. Remember, it was stuck…” Oh right. “How am I going to get out?”

Noiz lazily draws his tongue over his lower lip, tracing the place where a snakebite used to be, thinking. “We could cut you out.”

Aoba’s brows knitted together. “You are not going to cut this. I paid for this.”

Noiz is more amused that Aoba actually went out to buy something like this for him, than the idea that his boyfriend may be permanently stuck in it. “I can buy you ten more if it really bothers you. Now let me rip it.” He reaches over, grabbing at the collar of the cheap dress. Aoba jerks.

“No. Wait!” Noiz glances up at him, hands prepared to pop the seam. Aoba’s face has gotten all blushy again, and he reluctantly says, “Can you at least me discrete about it and do it in the bedroom?” 

Noiz quirks a brow. “Is that really an issue? After all we did ten minutes ago?” But Aoba’s eyes are diverted to the ground and it looks like he’s ready to make it an issue, so with a sigh, Noiz says, “Fine. Though, I really could leave you in this dress forever. It’s ero-kawaii.” 

“Don’t say that!” Aoba hollers. “You know what, just take it off now! I don’t want to give you the satisfaction of seeing me in it any longer.” 

“Oh come on, wouldn’t it be cute to be my little maid-san forever?”

“No!”

“I’d let you call me Meister-sama.”

“Stop it Noiz!” 

“Just call me that for the rest of my birthday. Please?” 

“No! You got your birthday gift you rotten brat. Now wait until next year.” Aoba bites off starting to yank at the cheap fabric himself. Noiz chuckles, watching his boyfriend fruitlessly struggle. “Noiz help me!” He just continues to watch, grinning. 

It’s the first time he’s ever advocated leaving Aoba’s clothing on.

**Author's Note:**

> Hooray! Thanks for reading! ꒰｡•ॢ◡-ॢ｡꒱ Read more at my tumblr: milkysmoon.tumblr.com


End file.
